Soldier On
by gymjunky71
Summary: The Dursleys believe that weakening Harry would make him less of a threat over the 1995 summer holidays. So, without explanation, Harry finds himself being systematically starved. His weight is held at a very low level all because the Dursleys don't want him strong. His friends worry there might be an underlying illness when they don't see the progress they'd been anticipating.
1. Chapter 1

**DURSLEY P.O.V. (June 1995)**

The inhabitants of Number 4, Privet Drive were tense. Whilst their neighbors were out enjoying the summer holidays with their children returned from boarding school, Vernon and Petunia sat at their kitchen table. He was a large, strong man with dark hair and a thick moustache, his mean blue eyes lazily scrolling the paper. She had light eyes as well, but had blonde hair and a very slight build. Sausage, bacon, Heinz baked beans, tomato slices, fried bread, and eggs steamed on their breakfast plates.

There was tension in the room despite little conversation other than polite morning greetings. Something ominous was looming over the Dursley couple.

Vernon glanced at the clock, sighing, "That train is arriving in a half an hour. Might as well get this over with."

He scraped his chair back and got laboriously to his feet.

"I will not have magic under my roof, Vernon." said Petunia, watching him rise.

"There's nothing we can do about it." Vernon replied. "I wish there was. But _his_ people force him upon us."

"The boy is dangerous." Petunia continued. "Remember what happened to Dudley last July? Potter says he didn't do it, but it's his world either way. We never really got the chance to punish him for it."

Vernon punched his arms through the sleeves of his jacket, "Well, that's because of his murdering uncle."

"If Harry is strong – and he's always stronger when he comes back from that 'school' – he'll be dangerous again. We have to find a way to weaken him."

Vernon took the last bite of his toast and then a smile dawned on him.

 **HARRY'S P.O.V. (June 1995)**

Dropping his lanky body into the backseat of his uncle's car, Harry could see that Dudley has changed quite a lot over the school year. Though he stood in stark contrast to this cousin, Dudley had managed to lose a lot of weight. He was still overweight, though, by the look of him, but no longer obese. Harry had not spent so long in close confinement with Dudley in months. He supposed last summer had brought on a change in Dudley and Harry's arm was not bruised from punches.

Harry was left to empty his belongings in his bedroom. He could hear his aunt cooking lunch in the kitchen below. He smelled vegetable soup and pork. His metabolism was lightning-fast and he was starving. Even Dudley's 'healthier' diet was mouthwatering.

Hedwig finally arrived after he had let her out on the Hogwarts Express. She carried with her a sizable package from Mrs. Weasley. Hermione and Ron always worried about him when summer rolled around, having listened to Harry complain how indifferent the Dursleys felt about his health. This was made obvious by their owl-mailed food. Harry cuddled Hedwig, the one living connection he had to his real world, before turning to open what he already knew was food.

" _Alright_! Stew!" Harry punched the air victoriously, then stroked Hedwig. "If I pace myself, this can last me a week. Maybe more!"

He wrote Mrs. Weasley a 'thank you' letter, but lied in it that the Dursleys weren't so bad anymore. He didn't want her to feel like she needed to cook for him when she had four children of her own to feed (Percy being still estranged from the family; Charlie and Bill having moved out years ago). Harry had not gone down to lunch yet, but he knew what would be waiting for him: he'd only be allowed one serving of whatever aunt Petunia had prepared. He sent the letter off before meeting his new summer menu. On his plate sat a pitiful lettuce sandwich with a cup of lemonade.

"That's _it_?" Harry asked incredulously.

This was low, even for Dursley-neglect standards. It was nothing like the 2,000+ calories a day he was used to getting back at Hogwarts.

"If you don't want it, put it in the fridge for tomorrow. It'll be your breakfast. Either way, you are eating it and only that." Spat back Aunt Petunia.

Harry glanced disbelievingly between his aunt and uncle, "What did I do?"

"You have cost us a lot of money over the last sixteen years. We were only planning on having one child before you were dumped on us." said Uncle Vernon. "It's high time you start earning your way around here. Pay your rent."

The insults went in one ear and out the other. But having a proper summer job would keep Harry out of the house and away from the Dursleys. He would not mind earning some Muggle money, either. He would ask Hermione how to transfer it at Gringotts as she has done it for years.

"I'll look for a job in tomorrow's paper then." Harry shrugged.

"No." said uncle Vernon. "You're going to do work on this house daily for privileges. Food, water, bed, etcetera."

Harry narrowed his eyes, "I thought I already did those things."

"Not daily." said aunt Petunia. "Dudley is too busy being social and wonderful to waste his time with your mundane tasks."

Harry frowned as his uncle handed him a sheet of paper reading:

 **DAILY CHORES**

 **For drinks:**

Change bed linens

Dust

Vacuum

Sweep

Wash and dry laundry

Wash dishes

 **For food:**

Water plants

Rake leaves

Wash car

Pull weeds & spray weed killer

Mow & trim lawn

Trim bushes

Clean outdoor furniture

Clean baseboards

Take trash out

" _All_ of this?!" Harry asked indignantly. "Everyday? Just to eat and drink?!"

Petunia pointed at the paper, "You combine items from each list to earn yourself a meal. For example, washing our dishes plus tending to my garden will get you breakfast. The earlier you start in the day, the less you'll get burned by the sun –"

"You've been coasting by as a guest in our house for too long."." said uncle Vernon. "You must choose a chore to complete and you'll be rewarded."

Harry asked, "And if I don't?"

"… Hope you enjoy your last free meal here, Potter." sneered uncle Vernon.

The best way to counteract the Dursleys treatment of him was to show not a single hint of weakness. Persevere. Harry finished his sandwich in less than a minute to quail his rumbling empty stomach. As per usual, he was forced to wait at the table for the rest of his family to finish their bowls of vegetable soup and pork. But Harry was not so glum tonight, in spite of that ridiculous list.

He had the stew waiting for him underneath his bed. Besides, most teenagers his age had chores to do. Though most teenagers didn't have to do them to get fed …. The dishes now glistening in the dish rack and the counters impeccable, Harry retreated thankfully to his bedroom. At his desk, with the window open to funnel out the delicious aroma, he ate till his stomach might burst and went to sleep in a glorious food coma.

During the Quidditch season at Hogwarts, his muscles would grow and harden. The summer months don't offer much in the way of exercise. Normally, he would go for regular jogs through the neighborhood. But working the chore list every day was sapping the energy right out of him. The "meal rewards" were no more plentiful than that first sandwich.

Certainly not enough to keep his school weight on.

Aunt Petunia scathed him when he returned with his shirt soaked with sweat after working the lawn, "Take a bath this instant!" With Harry's back to her, she added, "Oh, I do hope that smell does not linger."

Harry did not have a scale to check his weight, but he knew he was thinning out faster than usual. The lettuce sandwich diet might have been more appropriate for someone the size of Dudley, who's trying to lose weight for wrestling competitions. Harry couldn't afford to lose any.

 **!*!**

 **JULY 1995**

Harry's long, lean body was almost skeletal just a month and a half later. As tempting as it was to vent his frustration to Ron and Hermione over the rigorous chore regiment and lack of food, he knew it would just scare them. It was not only his body that became thin. His mind was also affected by the daily labor. Once while mowing the lawn for an extra sandwich, Harry nearly passed out in the blazing summer sun.

It was a challenge to maintain a healthy weight while under the Dursleys' roof in the best of times. While at Hogwarts, Harry Potter reckoned that he was among the healthiest of his class. He felt great about his body and his self-esteem ranged from average to show-off. After all, his fame could not be the only reason girls have been taking a shine to him lately. He had his mother's bright green eyes behind his circular spectacles, his father's messy raven hair, and skin like porcelein.

He had a thin face with high cheekbones and a sharp jawline atop his long neck. He felt lofty at 5'9", able to look his older in the eye. But he hardly ever saw Dudley nor that gang of aspiring-felons Dudley considered friends. If he had the brainpower to wonder about it, he'd say that Dudley was distancing himself from them since the Dementor attack last summer. It was a relief to not have them interrupting Harry's chores.

He could sweat and wither away in peace. His stomach shrank so that the sandwiches started to fill him up, but only for a short while. Soon, he'd have to find another chore to complete for another.

 **!*!**

 **THE BURROW**

After helping his headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, persuade Horace Slughorn to work at Hogwarts, Harry was dropped off on the front lawn of the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley served him a steaming bowl of onion soup with bread while she updated him. He had been so ravenous that he burnt his mouth and ate half the loaf of bread before he started to feel ill. He was sent off to sleep in Fred and George's old bedroom. He tried to fall asleep, but the nausea beat his exhaustion.

He lost a good portion of that dinner that night before he finally could drift off to sleep. Harry supposed he had eaten too fast. That morning, he awoke to Ron and Hermione in the room.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione touched her lips, "You look so thin!"

Ron agreed, "Are you sick? Mum said she reckoned you just needed feeding-up -"

"It's great to see you both, too." Harry chuckled uncomfortably.

He knew better than to admit that he had vomited after eating hours ago. Hermione grabbed the sleeve of his sweater and half-dragged him to the nearest bathroom in the Burrow.

"What are you doing?!" Harry demanded. "I can piss on my own, thank you!"

Hermione dropped to her knees at the sink and pulled out a scale from the cabinet underneath.

"You weren't yourself in your letters." Hermione explained. "I never believed you when you said you weren't ill. But I'm never far off the mark."

She set it on the wooden floor before Harry. Harry scoffed and turned to walk away with his dignity intact. But Ron was filling up the doorway behind Harry.

"This is ridiculous." Harry swore under his breath. "Hermione, I'm ok."

Hermione was resolute, "Stand on it and we'll let you out. If you're ok, I'll apologize and do your homework for a week."

Harry raised his brows and smirked. How much weight could he really have lost? This was an easy bet. Harry crossed his arms and stepped on the scale.

"Nah-ah!" Hermione shook her finger, "Take off your shoes and all those sweaters first."

"Stripping was not part of the agreement!" Harry remained on top of the scale.

"Come on. You're wearing at least three layers. That'll make you weigh more than you really do –" Hermione glanced down at the number on the scale, breathing, "… oh, my god!"

"What does it say?" Ron asked her.

Hermione covered her mouth, "Harry, what have the Dursleys done to you?"

Harry frowned at the number, "That can't be right."

"A hundred and twenty-five pounds!" Hermione took her hand away, looking very upset. "How could you send Mrs. Weasley that letter?! She's going to lose her mind when she sees you!"

"She did not react like you guys are," Harry told her. " _And_ she's already seen me."

"At night, in the dark." Ron pointed out. "She's going to flip her lid."

Harry turned to the mirror and saw himself as though for the first time all summer. Dumbledore had described Harry as 'thin' before departing, but that was putting it lightly. His cheeks were concave, his eyes were shadowed behind his glasses, and his hair could do with more than a trim. He tugged the neckline of his sweater up to hide his jutting collarbone.

"Harry, _I_ weigh more than you." Hermione shook her head.

"Me, too." said Ron.

"You're a foot taller." Harry pointed out to Ron. He turned back to Hermione, "There must be something wrong with that scale."

"It's my mum's!" Hermione told him. "I brought it with me." Now Harry was certain they had planned to corner him. "I knew you were just trying to be the hero again. You're so masochistic, you know. Why can't you just let us help!"

Harry tried to get them to lower their voices, finally slipping past Ron to return to Fred and George's old bedroom.

"Did you eat any of the stuff we sent you before you stopped us?" Ron followed him. "Or did the Dursleys _confiscate_ them? Feed them to their fat son?"

"They had no clue." He implored defensively. "I was careful!"

"... That's bloody messed up." Ron narrowed his eyes.

Harry could see from Ron's point of view that this was an unsavory situation, living with the Dursleys. But, it will only be for one more summer. Then Harry will be moving out for good.

"I've told you before that the Dursleys don't _starve_ me." Harry reminded them. "Please. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"That just says plainly that there _is_ a problem!" Hermione insisted. Then she lowered her voice, "Is it because of Sirius?"

Harry gulped, "No."

"Why did you tell her to stop sending you food?" Ron asked.

"She has enough people to worry about without adding me to the list," Harry reasoned.

Hermione shook her head, "Mrs. Weasley loves to cook and she always has leftovers. That's not the real reason."

"I don't need her to cook for somebody who's not a guest at her house." Harry argued. "Staying here is one thing. But I live hours away."

"You know good and well she loves to mollycoddle you." Hermione argued back. "What, you can't stand being helped?"

Harry gave her a look and Ron sighed. Maybe he was tired of the topic as well. Hermione looked hurt. He was taking his frustration over the shameful comments he gets out on her. Harry knew she was only misguidedly seeing a problem where there was none.

"I appreciate your concern." Placated Harry, his teeth barely unclenched. "But, I can deal with the Dursleys on my own. I didn't have any help as a child and I certainly don't need it now. Besides, I'm here now. I'll get back to normal."

Hermione considered him for a moment, shaking her head.

But then her resolve melted and she sighed, outstretching her arms, "It's so good to see you."

And she embraced him, Ron enveloping them both as he was so much taller.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Still recovering from Ron and Hermione's intervention, which Harry thought was unwarranted, he followed them down the stairs. He loved everything about the Burrow, the thoroughly magical property on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon, England. The rolling cornfields, barn, pigpen, paddocked orchard, chicken coop, and fertile garden with a frog pond. Mr. Weasley's garage for Muggle artifacts and the stone outhouse that was converted to a broom shed. Everything about the place was as far from the Dursleys as one could achieve.

Harry was eager to put his agonizing summer at #4 Privet Drive behind him. He would appreciate no more comments about his drastic weight loss and be allowed to recover in peace. The delicious aroma jabbed Harry in the throat, making him gulp at the sight of it all. A full fry-up was displayed down the center of the table: baked beans, a choice of sausage or bacon, sliced-up tomatoes, fried bread, toast, hash, and fried eggs. Mrs. Weasley turned away from the sink, having deposited the pots and pans inside, and jolted with fright at their arrival.

"Good morning, dears!" She recovered badly. Harry smiled warmly but averted his gaze while she examined him over in the morning sunlight with hers. "Have a seat, have a seat!"

She corralled the three of them to the table and pulled out their seats. Harry felt overwhelmed by the kindness displayed before him. Eventually, Mrs. Weasley realized that Harry knew that she was staring at him and she returned almost to her usual self. _Almost_.

"So, Harry, dear … h-how was your summer with your family?" she asked him while he served himself as the platters floated past.

"Boring." Harry described evasively. "I just did my summer coursework and some chores around the house. How has yours been so far?"

"Your hands did feel rough. Calloused." Mrs. Weasley nodded, "Eating enough?"

"Plenty." Harry replied with a shrug; Ron and Hermione shared a look. "This is delicious, Mrs. Weasley."

"Eat all you want. You need feeding-up." Mrs. Weasley encouraged, glancing at Ron, "You two are the same: growing upwards but never sideways."

First Dumbledore, then Ron and Hermione, now Mrs. Weasley. _How many more people were going to patronize him?_ Harry was relieved to have that encounter over with, but it distracted him from how full he was feeling. He was barely finished with his plate and Ron was reaching for second helpings. As much as he resented the Dursleys lackluster meal plan, he found some rationale in the change.

Even if they weren't clever enough to intend it, Harry decided he was not going to be a burden to the people who took care of him any longer. He carried his plate to the sink and began washing it along with the pots and pans.

Ron and Hermione said nothing till Mrs. Weasley returned to the kitchen.

"Harry, you're showing me up!" Ron complained, indicating himself.

"It's no big deal." Harry told Mrs. Weasley. "I do the dishes everyday back home."

"You're not to lift a finger around here. I forbid it!" Mrs. Weasley shooed him from the sink. "Besides, I've got just the charm for this."

With a wave of her wand, the dishes began cleaning themselves. Feeling rather foolish, Harry excused himself outside. His stomach had not felt so full in weeks and he appreciated it. It was barely concave now with a complete breakfast. Harry rolled up the hem of his jeans to his knees, revealing the pale skin and hairy down of his thin calves.

Harry thought they weren't _completely_ lacking shape as he kicked off his shoes and rested his feet in the cool frog pond. It was easy to find the shape of his shin bone from his ball of muscle behind it.

His knees were still boney and knobby, but he thought they looked that way not matter what he weighed. Harry rested his elbows on these knees, watching the garden gnomes scurry about in the strawberry bushes.

"You're always so well-trained when you come back from holiday." Ron teased him when he and Hermione joined him out in the garden, clapping Harry on his boney shoulder. "Soon enough, you'll be just as lazy as I am." He glanced at Harry's holey trainers and callused boney hands, "Well, close to it."

Before he could hide them, Hermione caught a glimpse of his legs. He knew he was in for it.

"These chores that your aunt and uncle give you … what exactly are they?" asked Hermione.

There were so many, Harry bundled the dozens of outdoor tasks as 'gardening' and the ones indoors as 'cleaning'.

"Unless you're implying that assigning chores is now abuse." Harry withheld a smirk, "I'd be as fat as Dudley if they didn't order me about."

"Yeah … about as fat as a thestral." Ron scoffed under his breath.

"No, doing chores and helping around the house is not abuse." She agreed. Then her eye grew a hard tint, "Withholding food and laying a hand on you for refusing are!"

Harry had no excuse for that and did not disagree.

"Other people have it worse, I'm sure." Harry defended. He indicated Ron, "You probably do more chores than I do."

Ron frowned, "I have help."

"In a normal household, the residents share in maintaining it. They don't relegate it to one person, especially if that person is not being paid for their services." Hermione added, "Voluntarily, speaking."

Harry sighed, "I was dumped on them, guys. They never wanted a second child."

"' _Dumped on them'_?!" Hermione quoted, outraged. "Their family was murdered by a tyrannical madman! You barely survived! Anyone with half a brain would be _honored_ to take you. You had the entire magical community groveling for the chance. But Dumbledore placed you with _them_ –?!"

Harry cut across her, "He says I must consider their home mine for my mother's protective enchantment to continue working."

"Does Dudley still beat you?" asked Ron, setting his jaw.

"Dudley had already gotten bored of me by the time Dumbledore gave them a stern reprimand." Harry shrugged, reminiscing the encounter. He insisted, to Hermione especially, "He defended me!"

"He felt responsibility." Hermione shook her head, "He should never have put you there in the first place. He knew he was just as guilty."

"This is _Dumbledore_ we're talking about." Ron reminded her. "He adores Harry. He'd never let Harry suffer if he'd known."

"But he _did_ know!" Hermione argued back, turning away from Harry. "How could he not? Why else would he come down hard on the Dursleys?!"

" _Hermione_!" Harry chuckled uneasily, unnerved by her passion. He touched her shoulder to turn her about, "You're acting like they intentionally starved me and worked me down. Think about it. That would be sick. Like it or not, I was forced on the Dursleys. It took years for me to understand this. You can't make someone care about you. It's not just handed around. For them to not dump me at an orphanage, it's fair to do work for them."

"Oh, Harry." Hermione whimpered. "I am so sad for you."

He repeated, "Other people have it worse." He glanced around to the broom shed. "Do you want to play Quidditch, Ron?"

"What?!" Ron asked in a startled fashion.

"Quidditch." Harry headed towards that stone building. "I don't want to waste anymore of my summer on the Dursleys."

His air of finality silenced them. He did not know for how long it would last. But Ron did not wish to play Quidditch so soon after the row. Harry spent a while alone, floating on one of the Weasley's broomsticks. He thought about how happy he was to be at the burrow and dreaded the eyes he would draw shopping on Diagon Alley, if Ron and Hermione's opinions were anything to go by.

 _Let them watch_ , Harry thought to himself. _Let them entertain themselves with rumors about me. Nothing they whisper this year can be worse than the last_.

He could tell that Hermione was still simmering and brewing with thoughts to voice about the topic. But Ron was more eager to resume their natural friendship. He had a less analytical eye than Hermione.


End file.
